


Emergency Contact

by PenguinKiwis



Series: Wolffepack Against Child Abuse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bikers, Bikers Against Child Abuse, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Parental Plo Koon, Star Wars Modern AU, The Wolfpack is a Biker Gang Against Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinKiwis/pseuds/PenguinKiwis
Summary: If he were anyone else, it would be weird that he would drop anything to go to anyone who called him. But he wasn’t anyone else, because over a hundred people had his number as their emergency contact.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), 104th Battalion | Wolfpack Battalion & Plo Koon, Kit Fisto/Plo Koon, Plo Koon & Everyone, Plo Koon & Quinlan Vos, because he's the Dad ™
Series: Wolffepack Against Child Abuse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183304
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Emergency Contact

**Author's Note:**

> I see a lot of "oh plo koon would be a professor" or an ex-soldier or some sort of teacher or police officer and I raise you— Biker Gang Dad Plo Koon and his Gang The Wolfpack

Coruscant was a large city. The capital city, actually, so it made sense that there would be all sorts of people around. Good people, bad people, interesting people, and people in the middle. One group of people happened to be on the good end of the spectrum, but one wouldn’t know at first glance. Notorious in the lower and upper rings of society for varying reasons, the Biker Gang known as the Wolfpack was certainly filed under ‘interesting people’. 

Now, to clear something up, the Wolfpack wasn’t your typical Biker Gang. They were more of a family— an organization, if they needed something ‘professional’. Sometimes they called themselves “Plo’s Bros” instead of the Wolfpack or the ‘Pack, but the sentiment was the same. 

They weren’t your typical Biker Gang. In fact, they worked with the City’s Child Protection Services to get to and protect abused children should the abusers ignore the first attempts that the head of the CPS, Miss Shaak Ti, and the so-called Rancor Boys made to get a child out of a situation.

After all, what was more intimidating than a bunch of men riding up to your home on motorcycles with helmets and jackets emblazoned with images of teeth and that wolf insignia that was pretty notorious in the lower circles.

Though to be fair, Plo Koon _himself_ had a reputation in the lower circles. For as respected among the upper circles as he was for his intelligence and calm demeanor, he was just as respected in the lower for being a foe not easily beaten down. And his boys followed his steps, bearing the insignia of a wolf.

But that was besides the point.

Quinlan Vos’ bar wasn’t in the safest location, for most that was. To be fair, his job as an informant for the police really put him there, but he didn’t mind. _Kiffu_ brought in the most interesting people.

The regulars were there, of course, Cad and his gang hiding in the corner, good ol’ Jango and his kid had just left after grabbing lunch, that trio of punks known as the “Night Brothers” were at the dart board, though only Savage and Maul were playing, Feral seemed content to just watch as he sipped at his drink.

And of course, the tables were full of brown, grey, black, and white clad men. Some had dyed hair, there was one, Quinlan saw, with his hair dyed a bright pink and he really did want to know the story there, others had their hair long, short, shaved— some didn’t have any, but remarkably, they all had similar faces.

Brothers, the head of this oh-so infamous “gang” had said. 

Quinlan was pulled from his musing as the clinking of credits reached his ears and he turned from where he was cleaning a glass.

Speak, or rather _think_ , of the devil and he appears.

“Plo Koon,” Quinlan greeted with a grin as the aged man set the credits for his usual drink down on the counter. “I was wondering where you were, your boys were here, but you weren’t— I thought the world was ending or something.”

The man laughed. “My sons are all their own people and grown adults,” he countered as he sat down on one of the many stools. “I just happened to be a bit late today. Talking with Kit.”

Ah, the surfer that showed up at _Kiffu_ sometimes. Quinlan knew the guy, he was friendly and had recently dyed the tips of his hair a vibrant green.

Plo Koon, on the other hand and as said before, was famous for a number of things in the lower circles of Coruscant’s society.

Famous for being a person that people could go to for help without fear of him judging by their social standing. A person who was famous for being hard to break— Cad’s gang had tried once, Aurra complained that about bruising for the next few days. Maul had looked over when he had overheard before warning them with a sneer that he had been merciful on them if they got away with just a bruising.

Quinlan knew that was true. Apparently Plo had electrocuted someone who tried holding a child as a hostage. The culprit survived— unfortunately— but that story had spread like wildfire.

And of course, the Wolfpack had made Plo famous too. There was nothing more respected than men working in perfect coordination to beat back racists in the lower circles— that was one thing that the mixed company of the shadiest areas in Coruscant could agree on. Racism had no place in the lower circles, it was hard enough as it was.

Plo Koon was an older man, in his fifties or sixties at the oldest, if Quinlan had to pin him with an age, but according to Wolffe, the oldest of the ‘Pack and the oldest son, there were only a handful of people who knew Plo’s real age— Wolffe and the rest of Plo's kids, the Head of the Police (Mace Windu), and Kit Fisto. Because of course that surfer did.

Still, he wasn’t _young_.

Plo’s auburn hair was streaked with silver and there were age-lines that Quinlan could see on his skin— or at least the skin that he could see. The man almost always wore Lennon-styled shades with side shields and a black bandanna covering his face from the nose down.

“You and the boys’ve been busy,” Quinlan commented as he set the drink down in front of Plo. The man just chuckled a bit, tucking the straw under the bandana and taking a drink before he answered.

“Well, Shaak Ti has been running into problems as of late. A certain Mister Krell has been resisting, but he’s also protected by the state. The boys and I are having trouble getting little Katooni out from under his guardianship,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head. “Jaro wants to use more aggressive tactics, but you know how it is up there.”

“Shitty?” he answered and the other man snorted.

_“Messy.”_

Quinlan shrugged. “Close enough.”

He was certain that Plo just rolled his eyes from behind his glasses before glancing over his shoulder as cheers came from the tables. Quinlan looked past him, watching as one of the boys with his hair bleached white— Sinker— slammed the arm of a more messy, dark haired one down. 

“Do not break Jag’s wrist,” Plo called, a tone of warning in his voice, but it was light and he was _probably_ smiling behind that bandana of his. Sinker just gave a thumbs up as the other, Jag, made a face but tugged his arm free. 

Plo shook his head. “Boys.”

“Ha! I’m glad I only had to raise Aayla,” Quinlan mused, remembering his adoptive daughter.

“I recall you were complaining to Lissarkh about how she was dating a young man named Bly just two weeks ago.” 

Quinlan made a face. He vaguely remembered that conversation with the green haired college student— who happened to also be Plo’s adoptive daughter. One of many of his children.

“Well—“

He was cut off by Plo’s phone ringing and Plo just hummed, pulling it from his jacket’s pocket without missing a beat. He took one glance at the ID before answering.

“Anakin, what happened?”

Plo paused, brows furrowing before he stood. “We’re on our way, son, tell her to hold tight for us.”

The Biker was already zipping his jacket up, as he pocketed his phone, standing from the stool and Quinlan blinked. 

“What happened?” he asked but Plo just gave him an amused look.

“Anakin forgot that Little ‘Soka’s field hockey practice let out early today,” he said with a chuckle. “He’s in Ryloth, the next City over, with Obi-Wan, they won’t be back until her practice would _usually_ end. Yoda is out of town as well, and Shaak Ti is still working. Bultar and Lissarkh are back on campus with Sha and Agen, and Kit’s also busy— apparently there’s a shark problem on the coast and he has to keep tourists out of the waters today.”

Quinlan stared before he laughed. “Maaan, I thought it was something major like he had gotten shot or something,” he said, shaking his head. “And why’s Anakin picking up your daughter from practice anyways? In fact, why is Kit doing it too?”

Plo chuckled as he motioned to his sons to start heading out. “Little ‘Soka and Anakin are childhood friends, practically siblings. He likes to dote on her like she’s his own little sister.”

“And you let him?”

Plo just gave him a shrug. “Anakin might as well be my son too.”

The Biker waved over his shoulder as he said that, already heading out with his sons and Quinlan crossed his arms, grinning a bit as he watched them leave— dark gray bikes peeling off in duos and trios behind Plo’s. 

Just last week _Jango_ — yeah, the one that had just walked out before Plo had shown up— had called Plo asking for him to go and pick up Boba from school because _Jango was being held in the detention center._

(obviously, he got out.)

And the week before that, he had picked up some child named Zatt from swim practice, and also the mother-daughter duo of Luminara and Barriss when their car broke down— Quinlan was still laughing at that because he couldn’t imagine prim and proper Luminara on the back of Plo’s motorcycle at _all._

Hell, the man has gone and picked up the Night Brother Trio from the precinct more than once.

And, Quinlan realized, that Plo had never answered why _Kit_ was on that list of people who he let pick up Ahsoka. Well, he had been talking to him before he showed up today, probably over the phone... wait a moment...

“Shit no way, that happy-go-lucky punk that picks fights with Cad’s crew is gettin’ some, and I have yet to get _any_ in the past few years?”

“You mean you _didn’t_ know?” he heard Feral ask and he turned to glare at the Night Brother, who rolled his eyes in return. “Vos, even _Boba_ knew, and Boba’s like ten _._ ”

“Boba’s a _brat_ and how was I supposed to know that Fisto was getting a fist of _that?”_ Quinlan defended himself, making a gesture towards the door, and Maul snorted.

“You’re their _bartender,_ Vos,” he sneered, rolling his eyes as well, “But I guess jolly green’s got more game then you.”

That made Savage and Feral break out into roars of laughter.

Quinlan was cutting them _all_ off from drinks early just for that comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t ask why Katooni is under Krell’s guardianship, I needed a reason for CPS to get involved with him.
> 
> Also I might turn this into a series, not sure yet.


End file.
